


Easy to face death

by Mix Stitch (Synph)



Category: DCU - Comicverse, The Sandman (Comics)
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-08-04
Updated: 2011-08-04
Packaged: 2017-12-09 13:32:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 708
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/774778
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Synph/pseuds/Mix%20Stitch
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Neither one of them has any business in a Gotham City alley.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Easy to face death

Damian knows Death when he sees her.  
  
The ten-year-old watches the dark haired woman walk through dark Gotham allies without so much a hint of fear in her body language and he knows her for who she is. Black from head to toe defines her; the only break in the monotony of her dress is a silver ankh pendant that swings against her chest with every step that she takes through puddles of indiscriminate origin. Damian wonders why she’s willing to risk getting mugged for such a trinket before he reminds himself that she can take anything that Gotham City throws at her.  
  
He isn’t really following her, but there’s something about her and she is heading in the direction of the safehouse where he has one of his bikes hidden.  
  
If anyone asks, he’s following her for the Mission.  
  
Or something.  
  
Damian keeps to the rooftops as the moonlight-pale woman walks through Gotham without a care, humming to herself every so often as she meanders along a path to some place that only she knows. The shadows seem to waver when she walks past and even the normal multitude of homeless people and criminals that normally lurk in the city’s dark alleyways shrink back in fear when they hear the sound of her soft footfalls.  
  
He doesn’t notice that he’s followed her past his rendezvous point until she turns her face up at the rooftops and looks right at him. “You’re not as quiet as you think you are,” she says in a voice pitched low as a sudden gust of wind whips her hair around her face. “If you’re going to follow me, at least come down so that I can talk to you. It’s kinda lonely down here.”  
  
Damian moves before he thinks about the dangers, scrambling down the side of the building he’s on and flipping in midair so that he can land a few inches away from a massive puddle. “You know who I am,” he says softly, fingers sliding back to fumble with his belt and grab for a birdarang. “Why are you here? Are you going to kill someone?”  
  
“So suspicious for such a young child,” she says as she beams at him. “You know who I am, but not what I do. Would you really use one of those things at me? You’re adorable.”  
  
She smiles and her teeth gleam in the moonlight as her eyes glow and she looks so pleased that Damian almost takes a step backward into the puddle that he had made such an effort to avoid. “Relax kiddo.” She raises a hand up to touch the ankh around her throat and suddenly the look on her face is too tender for Damian to handle. “It’s not your turn yet. You have plenty of time to bitch and moan about changing the world before you die and who knows, you might get to follow in Daddy’s footsteps and play dress-up with the big boys.”  
  
Damian can’t stop staring at Death and he can’t avoid that the last time that he saw her face was the day when he attended Father’s funeral and that she looked much too upset for a stranger. “Why are you here,” he repeats as his hands clench at his sides.  
  
Death spins in a small circle, arms outstretched in the direction of the lofty spires and creaking buildings that stretch up to the heavens. “Why wouldn’t I come to Gotham? It’s a beautiful city.”  
  
Damian can’t help snorting. “Maybe if you’re blind…”  
  
Death laughs and the next thing that Damian knows, she standing in front of him smiling widely. “Come on, take a walk with me.”  
  
“But, I should be getting home-”  
  
Death laughs and wipes an imaginary tear out of the corner of her eye. “Live a little, kid.” When she reaches for his arm, he surprises them both by not flinching back and he lets her touch him.  
  
Her fingers are cool against his arm and he doesn’t miss the irony that the personification of Death has just told him to live. “Don’t you have places to be?”  
  
Death shrugs, smiles, and then squeezes Damian’s arm gently. “How do you know that I’m not already where I’m needed the most?”


End file.
